


Smile

by ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive



Series: The Promised Prompts [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, M/M, Post-In Your Heart Shall Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6066088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive/pseuds/ToPerceiveIsToBePerceptive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a first time for everything. But sometimes the circumstances are less than ideal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravyn_sinclair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravyn_sinclair/gifts).



> This prompt was from the splendid ravyn_sinclair: Before Bull is even ever somewhat remotely interested/serious about getting into Dorian's pants (he's just that admittedly very pretty Vint Mage that joined the Inquisition not too long ago and the boss trusts for some reason, but what boss says, goes), he's only ever seen the guy scowl, complain, glare, smirk, roll his eyes, grimace, drunk, nose in a book, and the occasional sharp grin. But he's never seen Dorian smile. Something cute, feelsy, and it doesn't have to be something that Bull said or did. But definitely Bull needs to have that moment where one second he's just that one Vint and then...oh. tl;dr, First time Bull sees Dorian smile.
> 
> This was beta'd once again by the wonderful embyrr922 is is made of sunshine and light.

Haven was gone.

And so was the Herald of Andraste.

Bull had dealt with losses before. There was a specific kind of grief that followed. It held in the air, unacknowledged by those who felt it. It was the grief that only came about during wartime. The closest Bull could get to describing it was that feeling of falling down a flight of stairs or a steep hill. Afterward you lay at the bottom, battered, scraped, wincing in pain. But you knew you had to get up again. Not because you wanted to. That was the last thing you wanted. But because you couldn’t just lay there. You had to get up and keep going.

Still, Bull didn’t know how long this Inquisition could keep going without their figurehead.

What did it say when the one person who could close the holes in the world was gone? What chance did they have left? For many of these people it would be far easier to pack up and head home. If the fight was hopeless, better to die with your families, right?

Bull knew all about standing on the cliff-edge of faith. He also knew what happened when people slid off.

Bull felt a tap at his elbow. He turned. Stitches was standing behind him, snow up to his calves and blood up to his elbows.

‘Well?’ said Bull. He had been standing at the edge of camp, looking out into the darkness beyond the firelight. Those mages could be planning a second attack. Unlikely, seeing as the Boss had buried them under a mountain’s-worth of snow.

Along with herself.

Keeping a lookout wouldn’t hurt.

‘Dalish and Rocky are fine.’ Stitches said. ‘Still out of it though. Rocky got hit hard and Dalish lost a lot of blood. Krem had to stop Skinner from stabbing some of Cullen’s boys, who made a few stupid comments. She’s calmed down now. Well… she’s sharpening her knives in a corner and glaring at everyone, but that’s-‘

‘Just Skinner.’ Bull said at the same time as Stitches. ‘What about the rest?’

Stitches shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Cold and tired, mainly. They’ve dealt with that before. The archdemon is new.’

Bull nodded. That was an understatement.

‘So what are we going to do Chief?’ Stitches asked.

‘About what?’

‘Our contract was with the Herald. No more Herald, no more contract. The boys want to know whether we’re sticking around or heading out?’

Iron Bull hummed. He hadn’t considered that yet. Some weird darkspawn monster has smashed their employer to bits. The chances of getting paid weren't high. But the idea of up and leaving all these survivors to fend for themselves? No. It just seemed like kicking a man while he was down.

‘We’ll give it a couple of days. See what the seeker and the spy-master have planned. After that, we’ll make a choice.

Stitches nodded and went to say something else, but a hesitant voice interrupted him.

‘I beg your pardon, I don’t mean to interrupt. But are you a healer?’

Bull looked and saw the ‘Vint mage from Redcliffe shuffling towards them. He had is arms folded tight against his chest, his hands bunched into fists.

‘Yeah?’ said Stitches. ‘Why?’

‘There is a man back there. Chancellor Roderick. He’s in a great deal of pain. Probably won’t last much longer. All the other healers are busy with people they can actually save. I was wondering…’

The mage trailed off, realising that he had no idea what he was wondering. Stitches just nodded.

‘I can give him something to make it easier.’ Stitches said. Relief flooded the mage's face at the prospect of not having to explain any further. ‘Which tent is he in?’

‘Third on the left. He’s wearing white and red robes. I’ll show you.’

‘Just a second.’ Bull said. Stitches and the mage stopped. ‘I want to have a word with you, if that’s alright?’

Some of the colour seemed to leech out of the ‘Vint’s face. His mouth fell open with some excuse ready to come out, but Bull cut him off.

‘Stitches will take care of your man.’ Bull kept his voice casual. ‘Don’t worry. He’s the best.’

Stitches smiled at Bull and left in the direction the mage had indicated. The ‘Vint himself squared his jaw and moved closer to Bull.

‘So, this word you want to have with me.’ The ‘Vint said, moving next to Bull but looking out into the snowy wastes. ‘Does it have more than one syllable? If so I’ll be impressed.’

Bull laughed at that. It always put people on the back foot when you laughed at one of their insults. And Bull wanted the mage on the back foot.

‘So. Dorian, is it?’ Bull asked, pulling the ‘Vint’s name from the back of his memory.

‘Yes. Should I ask yours, or just assume everyone calls you Sten?’

‘You’d be assuming wrong since everyone calls me the Iron Bull.’

Dorian rolled his eyes. ‘I take it you came up with that ridiculous name.’

‘You’re just jealous you got stuck with the boring human name your folks gave you.’ Bull smirked. Dorian glared.

‘If you wanted to trade barbs, I’m afraid we’re going to have to do this another time. The camp is still in disarray, and they need all the hands they can get. Including mine.’ Dorian turned to go. The weight of Bull’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

‘I was just thinking about how far you must have run. From Redcliffe to Haven? That’s most of the Hinterlands.’

Dorian eyed him. ‘I didn’t have many choices.’

‘Strikes me as interesting that you’d arrive minutes before the attack.’ Bull hummed. ‘Not long enough for us to mount a proper defence, but enough time to raise the alarm. You made a memorable entrance, ‘Vint. No one is likely to forget who warned us the mages were coming. Great way to earn our trust.’

Dorian frowned. ‘What are you implying?’

Bull raised his eyebrow. ‘You know what I’m implying.’

Dorian took a step back out of Bull’s grasp. Bull let his hand slide off him.

‘You think I am so moronic that I’d insert myself into the Inquisition to spy for the Venatori?’

‘You could be.’ Bull shrugged. ‘I don’t know you at all.’

Dorian let those words hang in the air, like the fog from their breaths. Then he squared his shoulders and moved back towards Bull, holding his chin high and his gaze firm.

‘The world is in chaos. Demons are falling into our plain of existence through holes in the fade. A malevolent darkspawn creature is controlling an archdemon. And the only person who had the will and capacity to try to set Thedas right again, is dead. If you think I am one to let some petty nationalistic agenda trump all my compassion and common sense, then-‘

A shout rang out. Then another. Then another. Bull and Dorian turned to look at the camp, unable to make out any of the words. Bull drew his axe off his back, eye scanning for threats. Krem burst around the side of a tent.

‘Krem, what’s going on?’ Bull demanded as Krem stumbled towards him and Dorian.

‘The Herald!’ Krem panted. He bent in two and resting his hands on his thighs, struggling to breathe. ‘The Herald. She’s not dead.’

The words wouldn’t connect in Bull’s brain. He turned them over again. And again. Finally, something clicked. For a split second he looked down at Dorian.

And there it was.

Dorian was smiling.

Back in Redcliffe, Bull had seen Dorian smile. He’d had that little smirk plastered on his face while he’d quipped at the boss. But that smile had been all theatrics, as flashy and showy as his magic. It was a calculation. An act. But one that everyone could see through, and that included the man who wore it. As obvious and deliberate as an Orlesian’s mask.

But now Dorian wasn’t looking in Bull direction. He'd fixed his gaze on Krem. There was no pretence and calculation here. Every line in Dorian’s face had softened, the tension in his jaw had released. He seemed to be glowing with relief and, there was no other term for it, joy.

All Bull’s suspicions melted away in an instant.

But then he was running. Dorian was running. Krem was running. And every other thing in Bull’s head fell away, replaced with the all-consuming knowledge that the boss was alive.

 

It wasn’t until Skyhold that Bull had time to study Dorian again. It was at a distance while Dorian wandered through the courtyard.

Dorian was frowning. His mouth was a hard line, a notch fixed between his eyebrows as he scanned the fortress walls. It was a hard expression. A focused one. It altered his face radically from how Bull had seen him last, in the snow.

Iron Bull strolled towards him. Dorian spotted his approach. Bull saw Dorian glance to the sides, trying to spot a way to escape without looking like he was doing it.

Bull kept his pace steady. No reason to freak the guy out.

‘Hey ‘Vint.’ Bull called, nodding at the hall behind them. ‘You like the new digs?’

‘They certainly make a change from tents and the frozen ground, I must admit.’ Dorian said, his jaw set. He scrutinised Bull from under his eyebrows. ‘You’ve come to finish your interrogation?’

‘Nah. But I wanted to give you a piece of advice.’ Bull said coming to a stop next to him.

‘Let me guess.’ Dorian folded his arms. ‘”Watch your back”? “Make yourself scarce”?’

‘Don’t play cards with Varric. He’ll bleed you dry.’

Dorian paused. ‘Pardon?’

‘Varric. Dwarf. Sarcastic. Charming. Clean shaven – well his face, anyway-‘

‘No, I mean… Why shouldn't I play cards with this Varric?’

‘You don’t have the right face.’

Dorian scowled. ‘I assure you, my face is more than right for any occasion.’

Bull rolled his eye. ‘The right expression. When we were back on the mountain I saw how you looked when they found the Boss.’

‘Oh? Did I have an expression that met your high standards of approval, then?’

Bull bit back a salacious comment, even though it would have been nice to see the ‘Vint’s reaction.

‘You’re good at schooling your features when you have negative emotions. But when you’re happy? When you have, let’s say, found out someone survived an avalanche? You’re not good at keeping a lid on your joy. You might want to work on that. Someone may think you’re one of those wide eyed idealists, who actually believes we can stop the world from ending.’

Dorian’s mouth opened a fraction. His skin seemed a little darker than before.

‘Oh. Well… I’ll work on that.’

‘Good idea.’

‘So you no longer think I'm an evil foreign spy snooping on the Inquisition for the glory of his homeland?’

‘No. Shame. It would be nice to have another around.’

Dorian tilted his head eyebrows knotting together again. ‘What?’

‘Forget it. I've got to help my boys unpack. Just thought I’d give you that heads-up.’

‘Right. “Beware of the dwarf” says the Qunari to the Tevinter mage. I’ll be sure to give your words all due consideration.’

Dorian gave Bull a brief nod and walked away towards the hall. Bull watched him go. Dorian still wore the same hard expression.

Bull made a decision. He wanted to see Dorian's smile again.


End file.
